All language subtitles for Brideshead Revisited - S01E08 - Brideshead Deserted

When I left Sebastian
in Morocco,

I had intended
to return directly to Paris,

but the business
of his allowance

meant that I had to travel
to London to see Bridey.

We met in the library
of Marchmain House.

Do you consider
there is anything vicious

about my brother's connection
with this German?

No.

I'm sure not.

It's simply a case of two waifs
coming together.

You say he's a criminal?

Criminal type.

He's been in a military prison,

and he was
dishonorably discharged.

And the doctor says Sebastian
is killing himself with drink.

Weakening himself.

He hasn't DTs or cirrhosis.

He's not insane?

Certainly not.

He's found a companion
he happens to like

and a place that he happens
to like living in.

Then he must have
his allowance, as you suggest.

The thing's quite clear.

Would you like
to paint this house?

My father wants it done

for a record
to be kept at Brideshead.

One picture of the front,

one of the back from the park,

one of the staircase,

one of the large drawing room-

four small oils.

I don't know any painters.

Julia says you specialize
in architecture.

Yes.

I should like to very much.

You know
they're pulling it down.

My father's selling it.

They're going to put up
a block of flats here.

They're keeping the name.

We can't stop them, apparently.

What a very sad thing.

Well, of course I'm sorry,

but do you think it good
architecturally?

It's one of the most beautiful
houses I know.

Can't see it.

I've always thought it
rather ugly.

Perhaps your pictures
will make me see it differently.

I began
in the long drawing room,

for they were anxious
to shift the furniture

which had stood there
since it was built.

I set out the perspective
in pencil

but held back from the painting

like a diver
on the water's edge.

Once in, I found myself
buoyed and exhilarated.

I was normally
a slow and deliberate painter.

That afternoon and all next day
and the day after,

I worked fast.

I could do nothing wrong.

At the end of each passage,
I paused, tense,

afraid to start the next,

fearing, like a gambler,
that luck must turn

and the pile be lost.

But bit by bit,
minute by minute,

the thing came into being.

There were no difficulties.

The intricate multiplicity
of light and color

became a whole.

Each brush stroke,
as soon as it was complete,

seemed to have been there
always.

May I stay here and watch?

Yes,

so long as you don't talk.

This was my first commission.

I had to work against time,
for the contractors

were only waiting
for the final signature

to start their work
of destruction.

In spite
or perhaps because of that,

for it is my vice to spend
too long on a canvas,

never content
to leave well alone,

those four paintings
of Marchmain House

are particular favorites
of mine,

and it was their success
both with myself and others

that confirmed me in what has
since been my career.

Must be lovely
to be able to do that.

It is.

Oh, I'm tired.

I bet you are.

Is it finished?

Practically.

I shall have to go over it again
in the morning.

Do you know
it's almost dinnertime?

There's no one here
to cook anything now.

I only came up today.

I didn't realize
how far the decay had gone.

You wouldn't take me out
to dinner, would you?

All right.

Oh, thank youl

I'll go and get changed.

We let ourselves out
by a side door

and walked to the Ritz Grill.

You've seen Sebastian?

Yes, I have.

He won't come home even now.

I didn't realize
you understood so much.

Well, I love him
more than anyone.

It's sad about Marchers,
isn't it?

Very sad.

Do you know they're going
to build a block of flats

and that Rex wants to take

what he calls a "penthouse"
at the top?

Isn't that like him?

Poor Julia,
that was too much for her.

He couldn't understand it
at all.

He thought that she'd like
to keep up with the old home.

Things have all come to an end
very quickly, haven't they?

Apparently,
Papa has been terribly in debt

for a long time,

and selling Marchers
has put him straight again.

But what's going to happen
to you?

What indeed?

There are all kinds
of suggestions.

Aunt Fanny Roscommon
wants me to live with her,

and then Rex and Julia talk

of taking over half
of Brideshead and living there.

But won't your father come back?

We thought he might, but no.

They closed the chapel
at Brideshead.

Did they?

Bridey and the bishop.

Mummy's requiem
was the last mass said there.

After she was buried,
the priest came in.

I was there alone.

I don't think he saw me.

He took up the altar stone
and put it in his bag.

Then he burnt the wads of wool
with the holy oil on them

and threw the ash outside.

He emptied the holy water stoup,

blew out the lamp
in the sanctuary,

and left the tabernacle
open and empty,

as though from now on,
it was always to be Good Friday.

I suppose none of this makes
any sense to you, Charles.

Poor agnostic.

I stayed there till he was gone.

Then suddenly there wasn't
any chapel there anymore,

just an oddly decorated room.

I can't tell you
what it felt like.

You've never been to Tenebrae,
I suppose?

No.

Well, if you had,

you would know how the Jews feel
about their temple.

Quomodo sedet sola civitas.

It's a most beautiful chant.

You ought to go there once
just to hear it.

Are you still trying
to convert me, Cordelia?

No. That's all over too.

Do you know what Papa said
when he became a Catholic?

Mummy told me once.

He said, "You have
brought back my family"

to the faith
of their ancestors."

Pompous, you know.

Takes people in different ways.

Anyhow, the family haven't been
very constant, have they?

There's him gone,

Sebastian gone,

Julia gone.

But God won't let them go
for long, you know.

I wonder if you remember
the story that Mummy read us

the evening
Sebastian first got drunk.

I mean, that bad evening.

- Father Brown?
- Yes.

He said something like,

"I caught him, the thief,

"with an unseen hook
and an invisible line

"which is long enough
to let him wander

"to the ends of the world

and still bring him back
with a twitch upon the thread."

First time I've ever been
taken out to dinner alone

at a restaurant.

Do you know what Julia said

when she heard
about Marchmain being sold?

She said, "Poor Cordelia"

won't have her coming-out ball
here after all."

it's a thing
we used to talk about,

like me being her bridesmaid.

That didn't come off either.

When Julia had her ball,
I was allowed down for an hour

to sit in the corner
with Aunt Fanny,

and she said to me,

"In six years' time,
you'll have all this."

I hope I've got a vocation.

I don't know what that means.

It means you can be a nun.

If you haven't a vocation,
it's no good,

however much you want to be.

And if you have a vocation,
you can't get away from it,

however much you hate it.

Bridey thinks he has a vocation
and hasn't.

I used to think Sebastian had
and hated it,

but I don't know now.

Everything's changed so much
suddenly.

You'll fall in love.

Oh, I pray not.

I say, do you think
I could have another one

of those scrumptious meringues?

My theme is memory,

that winged host
that soared about me

one gray morning of wartime.

These memories,
which are my life,

for we possess nothing certainly
except the past,

were always with me.

For nearly ten dead years

after that evening
with Cordelia,

I was borne along a road

outwardly full of change
and incident.

But never during that time,
except sometimes in my painting,

did I come alive as I had been

during the time
of my friendship with Sebastian.

I became
an architectural painter.

But as the years passed,

I began to mourn the loss
of something I had known

in the drawing room
of Marchmain House,

the intensity and singleness

and the belief that it was not
all done by hand.

In a word, the inspiration.

In quest of this fading light,
I went abroad,

traveling by slow
but not easy stages

through Mexico
and Central America.

There, in great labor, sickness,
and occasionally in some danger,

I made the first drawings
for Ryder's Latin America.

I was in no great pains
to keep in touch with England.

I followed local advice
for my itinerary

and had no settled route

so that much of my mail
never reached me

and the rest accumulated

until there was more than
could be read at one sitting.

But despite this isolation

and this long sojourn
in a strange world,

I remained unchanged,

still a small part of myself
pretending to be whole.

I discarded the experiences
of those two years

with my tropical kit

and returned to New York,
as I had set out.

Richiel.

I had a suite booked.

The name is Ryder.

Yes, sir.

Has my wife arrived yet?

646 and 647,
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Ryder.

Your wife has checked in, sir.

Would you care to sign
the register, please?

Your wife went out earlier, sir.

She said to say
that she'd be back after lunch.

Thank you.

646. Thank you, sir.

Any messages?

- No, sir.
- Thank you.

- Thank you very much.
- Thank you, sir.

- Good night.
- Good night.

I don't believe
you read my letters.

Well, some of them went astray.

I remember distinctly
your telling me

that the daffodils
in the orchard were a dream

and that the new nursery maid
was a jewel,

but frankly I cannot
remember you telling me

that your new baby
was called Caroline.

Why did you call it that?

After Charles, of course.

Ah.

I made Bertha Van Halt
godmother.

I thought she was safe
for a good present.

What do you think she gave?

Bertha Van Halt
is a well-known trap.

What?

A 15-shilling book token.

Now that John-John
has a companion, I think-

- Who?

Your son, darling.

You haven't forgotten him too?

Why do you call him that?

It's the name he invented
for himself.

Don't you think it's sweet?

Now that John-John
has a companion,

I think we'd better not
have any more for some time,

don't you?

Just as you like.

John-John talks about you
such a lot.

He prays every night
for your safe return.

I hope you admire
my self-restraint.

Restraint?

I'm not asking
any awkward questions.

I may say I've been tormented
by visions

of voluptuous half-castes
ever since you went away.

I determined not to ask...

And I haven't.

That suits me.

Shall I put my face to bed?

No, not just yet.

I don't believe
you've changed at all, Charles.

No, I'm afraid not.

Do you want to change?

It's the only evidence of life.

But you might change so that
you didn't love me anymore.

There is that risk.

- Charles?
- Hmm?

You haven't stopped loving me?

You said yourself
I hadn't changed.

Well, I'm beginning to think
you have.

I haven't.

No.

No, I can see that.

Were you at all frightened
at meeting me today?

Not the least.

You didn't wonder
if I should have fallen in love

with someone else
in the meantime?

No.

Have you?

You know I haven't.

Have you?

No.

I'm not in love.

Bloody central heating.

Lights out?

Mm.

The garden's come on a lot.

The box hedges you planted
grew five inches last year.

Of course, darling,

I can see your new pictures
are perfectly brilliant

and really rather beautiful
in a sinister sort of way,

but somehow I don't feel
they're quite you.

We've got a first-class cook
at the moment.

You'll be really impressed.

Just like old times.

I'm not worrying anymore,
Charles.

Good.

I was so terribly afraid

that two years
might have made a difference.

Now I know we can start again
exactly where we left off.

When?

What?

When we left off what?

When you went away, of course.

You're not thinking
of something else

a little time before?

Oh, Charles, that's old history.

It was nothing.

It was never anything.

It's all over and forgotten.

I just wanted to know.

So we're back where we were
the day I went abroad.

Is that it?

So we started that day

exactly where we left off
two years before:

With my wife in tears.

Hello.

Hello?

In the dressing room, please.

Charles, I'm just arranging
our little party this evening.

Julia?

Celia.

Celia Ryder.

Oh, it's lovely
to find you on board.

What have you been up to?

Oh, come and have a cocktail
this evening

and tell me all about it.

Good. See you then.

Julia who?

Mottram.

I haven't seen her for year-
Hello?

Operator, could you get me...

I had not seen Julia

since the private view
of my first exhibition

where the four canvases of
Marchmain House, lent by Bridey,

had hung together,
attracting much attention.

Those pictures were
my last contact with the Flytes.

Our lives,
so close for a year or two,

had drawn apart.

Sebastian, I knew,
was still abroad.

Rex and Julia,
I sometimes heard it said,

were unhappy together.

Rex was not prospering quite
as well as had been expected.

I saw their faces now and again,
peeping from the Tatler,

but they and I had fallen apart
into separate worlds.

Can I get you anything, sir?

A whiskey soda, no ice.

I'm sorry, sir.
All the soda's iced.

- Is the water iced?
- Oh, yes, sir.

That'll do.

Charles.

Hello.

I heard you were here.
Celia telephoned to me.

It's delightful.

Will you join me for a drink?

Thank you.

What are you doing?

Waiting. My maid's unpacking.

She's been so disagreeable
ever since we left England.

She's complaining now
about the cabin.

I can't think why.

It seems the lap of luxury
to me.

He brought two jugs,

one of iced water,
the other of boiling water.

I mixed them
to the right temperature.

I'll remember
that's how you take it, sir.

Thank you.

What can I get for you, madam?

Oh, a hot chocolate.

Very good, madam.

I never see you now.

I never see anyone I like.

I can't think why.

What have you been doing
in America?

Don't you know?

I'll tell you about it sometime.

I've been a mug.

I thought I was in love
with someone,

but it didn't quite work out
that way.

What about you, Charles?

What have you been up to?

Oh, I've just been painting,

trying different styles.

I'm just back from a trip.

Where have you been?

Mexico, Central America,

quite a way from anywhere.

I felt I needed
a change of scene.

I was getting stale.

It sounds thrilling.

I'm longing to see the pictures.

Celia wanted me to unpack them
and stick them around the cabin

for her cocktail party,
but I couldn't do that.

No.

Is Celia as pretty as ever?

I always thought she had
the most delicious looks

of any girl in our year.

She hasn't changed.

You have, Charles,

so lean and grim,

not at all the pretty boy
Sebastian brought home with him.

Harder too.

And you're softer?

Yes, I think so.

I'm more patient now.

And sadder too.

Oh, yes, much sadder.

Facing into the room, please.

My wife was in exuberant spirits

when, two hours later,
I returned to the cabin.

There you are.
I've had to do everything.

How does it look?

You must go and get dressed.

Where have you been
all this time?

Talking to Julia Mottram.

Do you know her?

Oh, of course, you were a friend
of the dipso brother.

Goodness, her glamour.

She greatly admires
your looks too.

She used to be a girlfriend
of Boy's.

Surely not.

He always said so.

Have you considered

how your guests
are going to eat this caviar?

Oh, I have.

It's insoluble.

But I suppose
there's always this.

Oh, anyway,
people always find ways

of eating things at parties.

Do you remember
we once ate potted shrimps

with a paper knife?

Did we?

Darling.

It was the night
you popped the question.

As I remember it, you popped.

Well, the night we got engaged.

Well, you haven't said

what you think
about the arrangements.

It's a cinema actor's dream.

Cinema actors, that's what
I want to talk about.

Charles, I've been thinking.

I do believe
you're absolutely cut out

to be a set designer
for the cinema.

I've invited two
very important Americans,

real Hollywood magnates.

Do promise you'll be sensible
and talk to them.

Ah, here is Father Christmas.

Oh, dear Lady Celia.

Is everything all right, madam?

We were just in raptures
over your swan.

If you'll put on
your warmest clothes

and come on an expedition
with me to the cold storage,

I could show you
a whole Noah's Ark

full of such objects.

The toast for the caviar
will be along shortly.

They're keeping it hot.

Toast.
Do you hear that, Charles?

Toast!

I do believe
you've taken against my swan.

Well, we were just-

- Now, don't be beastly about it
in front of the purser.

I think it was sweet of him
to think of it.

You know, if Charles had read
about it in a description

of a 16th-century banquet
in Venice,

he'd have said,
"Those were the days to live."

In 16th-century Venice,

it would have been
a somewhat different shape.

Hellol How are you?

I'm so glad you could come.

Celia, what a beautiful swanl

isn't it heavenly?

I hate to spoil the fun,

but it looks
like we're in for a storm.

Oh, how can you be so beastly?

Anyway, storms don't affect
a ship this size, do they?

Well, it might
hold us back a bit.

But it won't make us sick?

Well, that depends
on how good a sailor you are.

I'm always sick in storms,
ever since I was a boy.

I don't believe a word of it.

He's simply being-
being sadistic.

I must show you a photograph
of the children.

Do you know Charles
hasn't even seen Caroline yet?

Really? Oh, how old is she now?

I feel I know you
through and through.

Celia's told me so much
about you.

There were
no friends of mine there,

but I knew
about 1/3 of the party

and talked away civilly enough.

But all the time,

I thought only
of when Julia would come.

Been waiting to do that
for a long time.

Bet you don't know
how many drops in a minute.

I do. I've counted.

- I have no idea.
- Well, guess.

Oh, come.

A tenner if you get it wrong

and half a dollar
if you get it right.

That's fair, isn't it?

Three.

Coo.

You're a sharp chap, aren't you?

You've been counting too,
haven't you?

Tell me, how do you work
this one out?

I'm an Englishman born and bred.

This is my first time
on the Atlantic.

- You flew out.
- No.

You came round the world
the other way

and crossed the Pacific.

You are a sharp chap
and no mistake.

I've made quite a bit
out of arguing on that topic.

Well, I better skedaddle.

Toodle-oo.

Still, Julia did not come.

And the noise of 20 people
in that tiny room

was the noise of a multitude.

Charles, this is Mr. Kramm
of lnternational Films.

So you're Mr. Charles Ryder.

- Yes.
- Well, well, well.

Our purser says we're in
for some pretty dirty weather.

What do you know about that?

Rather less than the purser.

I'm sorry, Mr. Ryder.
I don't quite get you.

I mean I know less
about that than...

the purser.

Is that so?

In half an hour

and go on meeting
every half hour for days.

I've enjoyed our talk.

I hope it'll be
the first of many.

You must promise me to bring

that distinguished-looking
husband of yours

to my little do on Tuesday.

Oh, we'd love to.
Are you having one too?

Do tell me, how did it feel
meeting Celia after two years?

I know that I should feel
indecently bridal.

But, then, Celia has never
quite got the orange blossom

out of her hair, has she?

Julia never came.

No, she telephoned.

I couldn't quite hear
what she said.

There was so much noise
going on.

Something about a dress.

It was quite lucky, actually.

There wasn't room for a cat.

It was a lovely party,
wasn't it?

Did you hate it very much?

You behaved beautifully,
and you looked so distinguished.

Who was your red-haired chum?

No chum of mine.

How very peculiar.

Did you say anything
to Mr. Kramm

about working in Hollywood?

Of course not.

Oh, Charles,
you are such a worry to me.

It's no good

just standing around
looking distinguished

and being a martyr for art.

Come on. Let's go to dinner.

We're at the captain's table.

I don't suppose
he'll dine down tonight,

but it's polite
to be fairly punctual.

I just hope
I can find the dining room.

This place is an absolute maze.

We were a gruesome circle
at dinner.

Even my wife's
high social spirit faltered.

Wherever Celia is,

you'll find she knows
all the significant people.

I'm miserable about the party.

My beastly maid
totally disappeared

with every frock I have.

She only turned up
half an hour ago.

I've made it my aim to reconcile

the so-called anarchists
and the so-called communists.

There is no fundamental
diversity in their ideologies.

It is a matter of personality,
Mr. Ryder,

and what personalities
have put asunder,

personalities may unite.

Of course.

But I understood you to say,
Lady Celia,

that you were unacquainted
with him.

Oh, I meant
he was like Captain Foulenough.

Ah, I begin to comprehend.

He impersonated
this friend of yours

in order to come to your party.

No, no, Captain Foulenough
is simply a comic character

in an English paper.

You know, like your Popeye.

To recapitulate,

an imposter came to your party,

and you admitted him
because of a fancied resemblance

to a fictitious character
in a cartoon.

Yes, I suppose that was it,
really.

Do you not agree, Mr. Ryder?

Yes, yes.

I mean, what are words?

What indeed?

My mind reeled.

After the months of solitude,
this was too much.

I felt like Lear on the heath,

like the Duchess of Malfi
bayed by madmen.

I summoned cataracts
and hurricanes,

and, as if by conjury, the call
was immediately answered.

Either I'm a little drunk,
or it's getting rough.

This is where I say good night
to you all.

Like King Lear.

Only each of us
is all three of them.

What can you mean?

Lear, Kent, Fool.

Oh, dear, it's like

that agonizing Foulenough
conversation over again.

Don't try and explain.

I'm not sure that I could.

Well, we've set a fine example
of British phlegm,

but I think I've taken
all I can.

This is making my head ache,
and I'm tired anyway.

I'm going to bed.

Are you coming, Julia?

Yes.

Will you be joining
in the tombola

this evening, sir?

No, no, thank you.

But if somebody could bring me
some more brandy,

it'd be wonderful.

Certainly, sir.
I'll get a steward for you.

Charles, is that you?

Yes.

I feel terrible.

I didn't know a ship this size
could pitch like this.

Oh, can't you do something?

Can't you get something
from the doctor?

I'll call the steward.
He'll have something.

Look, why don't I sleep
next door?

Then I won't disturb you.

Oh, God.

Excuse me, sir,

but these have come
for you and her Ladyship.

What would you like me to do
with them, sir?

Oh, over there somewhere.

What news of the storm?

Well, the wind's dropped
a little, sir,

but it's still blowing
quite hard,

and there's a heavy swell.

Nothing like a heavy swell

for the enjoyment
of the passengers.

There weren't many breakfasts
wanted this morning.

Just a moment, Steward.

Would you have these delivered
to Lady Julia Mottram's cabin?

Certainly, sir.

And, Steward...

Would you ask the barber
to call?

Very good, sir.

Thank you. Hello?

Charles,
what a deplorable thing to do.

How unlike you.

Don't you like them?

What can I do with roses
on a day like this?

Smell them.

They've absolutely
no smell at all.

What did you have for breakfast?

Muscat grapes and cantaloupe.

When am I going to see you?

Before lunch?

I'm busy till then
with a masseuse.

A masseuse?

Yes, isn't it peculiar?

I've never had one before,

except once when I hurt
my shoulder hunting.

What is it about being on a boat

that makes everyone behave
like a film star?

I don't.

How about these
very embarrassing roses?

I'll see you on deck
about 12:30.

Marvelous.
You might not recognize me.

What do you mean?

I'm having my beard removed.

How dreadful.
It sounds like an operation.

Can I come in?

I thought these
might cheer you up.

How sweet people are.

I take it
you're not going to get up.

Oh, no.

Mrs. Clark is being so sweet.

Don't bother.

Come in and tell me
what's going on sometimes.

Now, now, dear,

the less we're disturbed today,
the better.

Charles?

Your beard.

Yes, I know.

What a pity.

I thought it looked
so distinguished.